


Divide and Fall Apart

by SpacedOut



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Everbody TBH, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Rape Recovery, Tell Me If I Should Make This Longer, Theyre Protective Of Each Other Honestly, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpacedOut/pseuds/SpacedOut
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley switch bodies to save each other, only it does not go as planned.





	Divide and Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reference to a lyric from "Jesus Christ" by Brand New. Kinda unrelated to the fic but it's a great song so listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjPyvoLXPs4 
> 
> So this is going to be intense, but not super graphic. Basically, be warned. No Beta. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Two rules about this world: (1) They can't heal from supernatural affliction. (2) In this AU, when angels get angry they get super powerful.

When Aziraphale (or technically Crowley) walked into the hellfire flames, he laughed. 

“Uhh,” Gabriel and the other angels looked at him in terror, an angel with the strength to stop the Great Plan and the resistance of holy hellfire from the Underworld? Unheard of.

Crowley read the angels in that moment and wanted to say something triumphant, such as “kneel before me, bastard angels” or something of the like. He wanted to show the world and all of heaven and hell just how strong, courageous and resilient his angel truly is. 

But while all of those things about Aziraphale are undoubtably true, a big ego was not something Aziraphale possessed.

So, instead, Crowley took a huge inhale of hellfire and blew it out at the group of angels that were gathered there to see him be eliminated. 

They jumped back, Sandalphon releasing a small yelp and Gabriel’s eyes flashing purple. 

Crowley grinned, The breath of hellfire would surly be enough to scare the angels away from Aziraphale for a least a couple centuries. 

_Serves you lot right. Sour excuse for angels._

~*~

Millions of miles below, Aziraphale was having the time of his life. 

He playfully splashed holy water on the window where a mob of rather nasty looking demons cried and screamed at the unholy miracle of a demon enjoying being bathed in holy water. _The best bit was when he asked the angel Michael to hand him a bath towel. And the bit with the rubber ducky! Oh, this is so marvelous! Their faces! He couldn't wait to tell Crowley later._

Aziraphale chuckled and tilted his head and relaxed further into the tub.

“I don’t understand,” Beezlebub said under her breath. How could this be? How could this possibly be?

Hastur turned to Beezlebub, “The people are going to riot if they don’t at least get a show.”

The pair of demons looked over at the window where Aziraphale continued to splash water at the glass. The mob was growing less afraid and more outraged by the second. 

Beezlebub looked back at Hastur, “What do you propose we do, then?”

Hastur, after thinking about the humiliation the traitorous demon put him through when he trapped him between trillions of atoms in the voicemail machine… and right after watching his colleague melt into the floor, grinned. 

His black pupils grew til the whites of his eyes were gone and all that was left was a deep, dark black. “We humiliate him.”

“Aye?” Beezlebub looked at him, puzzled. “We clearly tried that and it hasn’t worked.”

“Exactly. So instead, we let our audience degrade him.” 

Beezlebub looked perplexed for a couple beats until it registered. She smiled.

Aziraphale, who was now out of the tub and drying away the holy water from Crowley’s body, felt a shift of energy in the room. 

“Well, it was a pleasure but I best be off now,” what was left of Aziraphale’s confidence was starting to fade. Something was off. The demons were not fearing him any longer. 

He fumbled as he tried to step back into Crowley’s trousers. The demon with the frog head (Hastur, was it?) was whispering to Michael. 

Suddenly, Hastur marched over to Crowley’s form and grabbed him by the neck tightly, choking him with the harsh grip. Aizraphale could already feel the blood pooling at the skin around his neck, forming a bruise. 

“Not so fast, Crowley,” Hastur grinned, “Maybe you’ve become strong enough to withstand holy water but we still have a lesson to be made out of you.”

“What could you possibly mean?” Aziraphale asked through the demon’s vice grip. He felt his feet leaving the floor. 

Hastur chuckled, “I think you know what I mean.” Aizraphale focused behind the foul demon squeezing his face to see Michael drying the holy water from the room with the wave of her hand. 

After a beat, Hastur threw Crowley’s form into the glass that separated the execution room from the evil that stood on the other side. The glass shattered to pieces. 

Aziraphale released a pained yell as he hit the floor. The demons on the other side looked as shocked as the angel felt. 

Then they all began to cheer. 

“As punishment for your traitorous actions…you are sentenced to be at the disposal of the demons you have betrayed,” Beezlebub paused and looked up at the mob standing behind Crowley’s broken form, “Demons, don’t stop til he begs for your forgiveness.”

They cheered again. 

Dozens of evil monsters climbed over the shattered glass and pulled Crowley’s form from the floor.

Aziraphale, still dizzy from being thrown, still wasn’t processing what was happening, that is, until he felt Crowley’s clothes being ripped from his body.

It’s a miraculous thing, really, the human body. It knows exactly the right chemicals to release, the right neurons to fire, when it is experiencing the wide range of emotions humans can experience. 

Crowley’s form was no different. Having been inhabited by a demon for thousands of years, you would think the body would be old and tired and forget how to react. 

It did not forget, for Aziraphale felt his body, Crowley’s body, getting violated in more ways than he thought imaginable. Adrenaline. Fear. Pain. Anguish. All of it. He felt it all. 

Aziraphale could hear Crowley’s heart pounding like the final beats of a drum of war. He watched as shadows covered his face. Palms, fingers, knuckles were felt everywhere. 

Since he was an angel, and not just any typical human soul, he was able to temporarily shut off parts of his brain where pain was being processed. It gave him time to think of an escape plan before he would lose consciousness. 

_Vile, evil, monsters_ Aizraphale thought, he looked through Crowley’s eyes and saw various bodies, objects, blood, and manic laughing circling around him. 

The true horror wasn’t the fact that in this moment Aziraphale was being subjected to this disgusting effort to be destroyed, it was that these things were capable of doing this to Crowley. 

Crowley was a demon of hell, sure, but this. He would never do anything like this. Jam cellphone towers, yes. Cause a minor accident, sure. But this, no. Not this. How could they do this? How could they do this to him? How could they subject their own to this cruelty?

He could make out Beezlebub and Hastur watching in the background. It all felt like an awful television show, only Aziraphale was watching through the vision of Crowley’s eyes. 

It is real and it was happening to his demon, his Crowley. How dare they. 

Angels are not angry creatures, at least not typically. But when they do get angry… it’s quite the performance. An angry angel, when tempted, has enough power to split the pyramids of Egypt in half, to pick up meteors and toss them into nearby planets. 

What happens next is the result of an angry angel. 

The room turns a sharp white, blasting through the crowd around him. 

Michael, eyes wide, knowing what happens next, quickly vanishes. 

Within seconds, this realm of hell is annihilated, flattened like a nuclear genocide. Aziraphale sees nothing but white before finally losing his angelic consciousness. 

~*~

Crowley, in Aziraphale’s form, had just made it back down to Earth and was strolling towards the bench where the two had agreed to meet. 

Crowley lifted the bottom of the cream colored jacket, being sure to not wrinkle the angel's favorite suit, and sat down and propped his arms behind his head as if he were ready for a nice long nap. 

Minutes pass, then an hour. The demon started to grow anxious.

“Where are you, angel?” Crowley mumbled under his breath, watching the ducks grazing in the pond in front of him. 

“I’m here.” Crowly looks up to see Aizraphale limping over from a distance away, appearing to have just reentered the middle realm. Crowley’s form looked tattered, like he just made it through a rather large bar fight. 

Crowley immediately jumps up and runs over to the angel. 

“What happened?” Crowley asks. He grabs Aziraphale’s shoulders with both hands to steady the limping man. 

Aziraphale knows that eventually, Crowley will discover what had just occurred. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try to shield this from the demon, perhaps if he could persuade Crowley to keep each other’s bodies until his healed…

“Oh, nothing don’t worry yourself. Just a bit of a tumble out of the bathtub they had set up for me, well, you, I mean.”

Crowley squinted at the angel, trying to read him. 

What a sight it is to see the form you have used for thousands of years stare at you suspiciously, Aziraphale thought. What a sight it is indeed. 

Aziraphale did his best to produce a smile. It came out a bit sideways. 

Crowley paused, decidedly satisfied enough with Aziraphale’s response. 

“They had a bathtub filled with holy water? And you wonder where I get my interest for theatrics,” Crowley laughed as he slung his shoulder around Aziraphale’s lower back. He figured they could continue their talk over some lunch.

But at that moment, something peculiar happened. 

Aziraphale pushed Crowley away before jumping backwards and nearly landing on the grass beneath him. 

Crowley’s, or Aziraphale’s, blue eyes widened as he threw his hands up like a young child that realized he was in trouble. 

Aziraphale quickly regained his balance and ran his hands over his suit to straighten it. 

The angel’s voice cracked, “Ss-sorry, um. Must still be getting used to this body. Maybe it’s best I head to the shop, I feel like I haven’t seen it in ages.”

Before Crowley could respond, Aziraphale turned around and started stalking towards the parks exit.

Crowley, now thoroughly confused, yelled after him “Aren’t you forgetting something? I have your body, Zira!”

“You can keep it,” Aziraphale nearly spit back at Crowley. He didn’t mean to come off so angry, it’s hard to navigate a new body, especially when he’s simultaneously trying to hide all of the wounds and bruises beneath Crowley’s dark clothes. “At least for now,” Aziraphale added as he broke into a limped jog, trying to damper down the anger in his response while also escaping the demon.

“What the bollocks?” Crowley said, helplessly watching his angel disappear into the sea of London commuters. 

~*~

Crowley gave Aziraphale a good 30 minutes longer than he normally does before chasing after him. After their little fight a century ago over the holy water, Crowley has learned that he can’t let Aziraphale mope around for too long before regaining his good graces again… especially not after everything they have been through recently. This time Crowley planned to never leave his angel’s side again. 

Crowley marched up the stairs to Aziraphale’s book shop and was ready to pound on the door until he heard a familiar voice. 

“I must say, I am pretty impressed by you as of late, Aziraphale.” 

Crowley turned around to see purple eyes flashing up at him. Gabriel. 

“Don’t make me blow more hellfire at you, Gabby boy.” Crowley thought for sure he had scared the angels off when he was being ‘executed’ in heaven. 

“Ah yes, hello Crowley. I thought by now you two would’ve switcherooed back into your respective forms. Trying his out for awhile longer?”

Crowley’s heart sank. Shit. 

“How did you…?”

“Well, we had no idea about yours and Aziraphale’s little stunt until Michael reported back to us that Aziraphale nearly destroyed one of the nine realms of hell.” 

Crowley’s mouth fell open. He gripped the railing beside him and stumbled down a step, landing on his bum.

“I take it you did not know that?” Gabriel chuckled while straightening his tie. “Well, we were going to punish you both for this, but I think your friend Lucifer will be here soon to end both of you once he finds out just what our angel did. I am impressed really. Who knew all it took was a bit of, uh, unwanted contact to make Aziraphale finally let loose, quite literally.”

“What do you mean, ‘unwanted contact?’” Crowley could feel his throat tightening with rage. He gripped the rail tight with his other hand, ready to lunge at the angel for even insinuating what he thinks he is insinuating.

“I don’t know, demon, what do you think that means? It’s your crowd that did it to him, after all. Anyway, tell Aziraphale I said ‘good luck’ and if your side doesn’t evaporate him, we will gladly allow him to join our forces again.”

Crowley jumped up and went to lunge at the angel, but as quickly as Gabriel appeared, he was gone. 

Crowley, having grabbed at the empty air, quickly spun around and ran up to the door and started pounding.

“Angel, Zira!” Crowley yelled. 

Just as he did the evening the shop was on fire, Crowley kicked open the door, only this time he found the shop entirely unscathed.

_I wish this place was ablaze again,_ Crowley thought darkly as he frantically searched the shop for his angel, _because then at least there would be a chance that he wasn’t too late to save his friend._

But in this scenario, this reality, it was far too late. What was done is done. And now Crowley is ready to hunt anyone Zira had not already killed. 

As Crowley searched the downstairs, he heard a cry coming from the second floor, aka Aziraphale’s flat. 

Crowley made it up the stairs to find his form sitting on the kitchen floor soaked with water. Next to Aziraphale was a tipped over bucket. 

Crowley approached the angel quietly, trying not to duplicate his clamorous entrance into the shop moments before. 

Aziraphale immediately looked up at his approach, his snake eyes filled with what was read by Crowley as absolute despair.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale said brokenly. 

“What happened here?” Crowley asked softly as he looked around the messy kitchen. Water was everywhere. 

“It’s not holy… the water, that is. You can walk on it,” Aziraphale said. He gestured at the bucket. “I was trying to clean myself off.”

“You have a tub, don’t you?” Crowley asked as he stepped into the watery kitchen. After processing what he was seeing, he remembered that his bathtub must have reminded him of the one in hell. 

_Oh._

“It’s uh, broken,” Aizraphale said, followed by a burst of tears. Aziraphale picked up the fallen bucket and threw it across the kitchen floor, angry. 

Crowley was accustomed to the angel’s periodic tantrums, but this was quite obviously different. 

Crowley was immediately at his side, kneeling over him. He rested his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder gently. 

Aziraphale put a shaking hand over Crowley’s and looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“What happened, my dear angel?” Crowley asked as steadily as he could. 

“Nothing…”Aziraphale whispered, one last shot of keeping his secret.

“Let us switch our forms back and then maybe I can put on the kettle and we can…--”

“NO!” Aziraphale shouted before crumpling fully onto the floor, his voice hoarse from the exertion of the last few days finally catching up with him. 

“Zira, Gabriel told me what happened! He told me you blew up the ninth realm of hell!” Crowley said manically, reaching out to his angel once more. 

He continued, “Don’t think you can make me a fool, I know they hurt you, Zira. Give me my body back. I can’t stand to have you feeling pain for even just one more second!”

“I wont give it back, Crowley, not until your body is healed again! It was my fault anyway, I’m always getting into trouble and your always having to save me. And now they punished you for it. _I will not let you feel what they’ve done.”_

For the second time this week, Crowley felt the tears come. “I save you because you’re my friend, angel. I wish I could take this all back so that you can live a long eternity without my influence. This is all my fault, not yours.”

Aziraphale started to laugh.

“What could possibly be funny right now, angel?” Crowley was taken aback.

“Because I had wished the same thing at a couple points in time throughout these years together. It wasn’t until somewhat recently that I realized that to wish for a life without you is to wish for no life at all.” 

Aziraphale sat up and grabbed Crowley’s hand, “This is not your fault, Crowley. The only reason I felt the angelic rage that desecrated hell was because I thought of how terrible these people were to you. I wanted them all gone.. and now I think they are, at least most of them. I disappeared as soon as I realized what I had done.”

“You beautiful angel” Crowley said as he squeezed the hand offered to him by Aziraphale. 

“And now I can’t stop crying… and cleaning myself. I think the human part of me has taken over,” Aziraphale gestured at the wet floor.

Crowley snapped and the water disappeared. He stood up, pulling his angel friend up with him. Aziraphale followed. 

“Can we rest?” Aziraphale asked, “I, everything hurts.”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into an embrace. He held the angel delicately, looking into his eyes. He could still feel his form flinch at the touch, but Aziraphale overrode it by hugging Crowley even tighter. They stood there like that for a couple beats before Crowley spoke.

“Please,” he whispered to the angel, “Return to your body. I promise you I can handle it, Zira.”

Aziraphale nodded slowly, realizing that he will never win this battle. 

Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and laced it with his. From an outsiders view, it looked like they were preparing for a waltz.

Crowley felt the transfer. The world was weightless for a moment, and then came the excruciating pain.

Crowley moaned once he made it back into his original form. At the same time, Aziraphale released a small sigh. 

Crowley started to stumble at the sudden jolt of aches and pains. The angel caught him, “To the bed we go now, dear.” 

Aziraphale nearly carried the demon to the bed before gently lowering him. 

As the angel fussed around him, Crowley began to process what was hurting.

_Definitely my head, it’s pounding, like it got hit with something, Crowley thought._

_Arms, they were tied up at one point. He weakly pulled up his sleeves and found the matching bruises._

_My neck, I was choked. My throat… is hoarse. Screaming? I was screaming. Oh Aziraphale. It feels swollen too.. something was in my mouth. My jaw… it burns._

Aziraphale noticed what Crowley was doing, “There’s no point, my dear Crowley.”

“What did they put in your... well my mouth, angel?”

Aziraphale looked pained, “I’m not sure…” 

That was a lie, he knew.

“Don’t shield me from it, angel,” Crowley saw his expression, “Please.”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, he’s right, it’s his body now. 

“Their cocks, Crowley. One at a time. Sometimes two. A couple toys as well, I think.”

Crowley was ready to throw up. Foul, putrid, evil monsters. It didn’t matter that he was a demon, he had standards. He was a fallen angel, after all. Never would he do anything like this.

“I think I need that bucket, Zira,” he said quietly. He turned over on his side to try and stop his stomach from cramping.

Aziraphale magic’ed the bucket into his hand and set it on the floor. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside Crowley. 

After a few moments, “How long did it last?”

“I’m not sure. Long enough…”

Crowley felt similar bruises that were on his arms on his legs as well. He felt handprint marks on his thighs. 

He felt an ache in his bum, a deep burn that swelled with rips and tears. 

Demons and angels were not inherently sexual. That was more of a human thing. Although, demons and angels alike have learned over the years how much of an importance sexuality is to humankind. It’s how they reproduce, after all. It seemed like the human world revolved around three things: sex, currency, and war. The human experience in a nutshell it seemed like, although Crowley knew that was not quite true. 

This assault wasn’t because demons were sexual, it’s because they know what hurts humans. They knew that Crowley was human enough now to be treated in such a way that they knew it would affect him for as long as he continued life on Earth.

“Ugh,” Crowley moaned, he rolled over and puked bile. Aziraphale ran his hand up and down the demon’s side. 

Crowley eventually looked up at Aziraphale, “You should have given me my body back sooner.”

Aziraphale sighed, “No, this is exactly why I didn’t want to.”

“I told you, I can handle it, Zira.”

“But I can’t,” the angel said as he continued to stroke Crowley’s side gently, “I can’t bear to see you like this. Especially because it happened to me, not you. Now, we’re both affected.”

“It was meant for me.”

“Crowley…”

“It’s over, angel. Now, please, hold me.”

Aziraphale lifted Crowley up and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, magic’ing away the mess in the bucket. Aizraphale knew that while he cannot heal the afflictions caused by the supernatural, he can at least make them both comfortable. 

Pulling his legs up on the bed, the angel pulled the demon close to his chest. Crowley instinctively ducked his head under Aziraphale’s neck and wrapped his arm around him. 

Normally this would be a good time for a joke, but instead Crowley accepted this for what it was. 

He loved his angel and his angel loved him. 

“You are quite comfy,” Aziraphale commented sleepily. 

“Demons aren’t comfy.”

“Whatever you say, Crowley.”

After a couple minutes of silence.

“Zira.”

“Yes?”

“You really blew up a realm in hell?”

“Quite yes.”

“That’s incredible.”

“No one hurts me or my demon.”

“You’re incredible.”

“Pardon?”

Crowley looked up, “You heard me, angel.”

“I am just an ordinary bookkeeper angel that magics up a few miracles from time to time.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Crowley lifted his head from the angel’s chest and kissed Aziraphale lightly on the cheek.

Crowley pulled away and coughed from saying the word ‘heaven’ and Aziraphale chuckled, his cheeks blushing pink.

"Yeah, well you're quite incredible yourself, Crowley."

"Sure, sure."

"I mean it."

"I know you do," Crowley smiled. 

"How much longer til Lucifer comes after us?"

Crowley's smile faded. He had forgotten about that.

"Let's not stay put for too long," Crowley said after a moment, "Interested in running away together? Convicts on the run?"

"Sounds fun," Aziraphale said, he naturally gripped Crowley tighter. 

Crowley scoffed, followed by a chuckle. Brave angel. 

"I'll follow you to the end of time," Aziraphale added. 

"To the end of time it will be, then."

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Kudos always appreciated <3 Thank you for reading!
> 
> I kinda cut this one short. Let me know if you want this as a longer oneshot! I wanted to see your guys' thoughts first. Also, I'm in the thick of grad school and I needed to stop and study at _some_ point tonight lol.


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